


A Sunday Kind of Love

by kiwikero



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Football, M/M, Meet-Cute, Super Bowl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-03 01:29:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13330608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwikero/pseuds/kiwikero
Summary: In which Louis is invited to a party on a Sunday, the Packers aren't in the Super Bowl, and there's more than one way to score.





	A Sunday Kind of Love

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written as part of an ongoing challenge. We each select random numbers and are given a specific emotion from the book 1000 Feelings For Which There Are No Names. To read the other fics written in this challenge, [click here](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/ShortFic_Challenge_For_Which_There_Is_No_Name/works), or you can find the masterpost on tumblr [here](http://lululawrence.tumblr.com/post/159679804243/1000-feelings-for-which-there-are-no-names-prompt).
> 
> My prompt for this week was 315: The rage at loud Super Bowl parties. Let me preface this by saying I know absolutely nothing about football, I don’t really like sports, and the one time I went to a Super Bowl party it was for the food. I apologize for any misrepresentations of football or the teams mentioned. Also, I personally have nothing against the Patriots. XD
> 
> Thanks to my beta Sarah (and knowing a thing or two about football) and to KK for britpicking (and sharing my opinion on sports).

Louis had been invited to a party. 

It was a milestone, he thought, the mark of successfully integrating himself among his American-born classmates. He had been at the University of Indiana-Bloomington for a little over a month now, and aside from the cheesy mixers meant for other students studying abroad, this would be his first social gathering. 

Louis had always been the life of the party back home. He and his mates would drink and dance until all hours of the night, stumbling home arm and arm smelling of alcohol and questionable decisions. He was a bit more responsible since starting uni, intent on doing well in his courses, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a bit of fun on the weekends. 

In America, though, he didn’t have a group of friends yet. He didn’t have friends at all, really, and he wasn’t about to be the sad bloke going to the bar alone every weekend. Instead, he stayed in, Skyped with his sisters, and was the sad bloke playing FIFA alone on Friday nights. 

Now, though, it seemed his lonely weekends were over. The building he lived in housed mostly students, some of whom Louis shared classes with. He had been checking his mail in the lobby when one such student came up to him. 

“You’re Louis, right?” the man had asked. “I’m Logan. We’re in Dr. Glick’s class together.” His voice was tinged with the strangled vowels of a New York accent. 

Louis’ eyes lit up in recognition. “Yeah, right, I’ve seen you there. It’s nice to meet you,” he said, offering his hand. 

Logan took it, giving Louis’ hand a firm shake. “You too. Listen, I know we don’t know each other that well, but some of the guys are getting together at my place on Sunday. If you aren’t doing anything, you can come if you want.”

The offer took Louis by surprise, and it must have shown on his face because Logan shook his head in amusement. “It can’t be easy being in a whole new country by yourself. I remember how alone I felt my freshman year, and I was only a couple states away from home.” He clapped Louis on the shoulder. “I’ll introduce you to my friends. They’ll like you.”

Louis smiled gratefully. “Yeah, that sounds good,” he said. “I’ll be there.”

Logan’s face split in a wide, lopsided smile. “Great. We’ll have food and beer, so just come on up. I’m in 4C.” He glanced at his phone, frowning at the display. “And now I have to get to class,” he sighed. “It was good talking to you, Louis. I’ll see you Sunday afternoon!”

“See you!” Louis called after him. He couldn’t help smiling to himself as he emptied out his mailbox and headed back up the stairs. He was going to his first American college party. He wondered if it would be anything at all like the ones in the films. It was a bit strange to have a party in the middle of the day on a Sunday, but perhaps that was to ensure no one would be hungover for class the next day. Or maybe the party would last so long that it had to start early in the day. Whatever the reason, Louis was looking forward to finding out.

 

*

 

Sunday rolled around quickly, and after a morning of agonising over what to wear Louis made his way up to the fourth floor of the building. 4C was right next to the stairs, and through the door Louis could hear the sound of a television and a cacophony of overlapping voices. Louis knocked on the door, and after a brief pause in the noise the door swung open to reveal Logan.

“Louis, glad you made it!” Logan cheered, beckoning Louis inside. He had a half-empty beer bottle in one hand and was dressed in a red, white, and blue jersey. The writing across the chest said  _ Patriots.  _ “Come in and grab something to eat.”

Louis followed Logan inside, looking curiously around at the other attendees, most of them wearing jerseys as well. They were gathered in clusters—around the television, next to a table laden with snacks, smoking out on the balcony. There wasn’t any music playing and there also didn’t seem to be any women present. Louis eyed Logan, unable to reconcile the scene in front of him with the one he expected to see. “So, what kind of party is this, exactly?”

Logan burst into laughter, leaning back against the wall and clutching at his chest. “Oh man, you’re a riot,” Logan guffawed, reaching out to slap Louis on the back. “What other kind of party would I have on Super Sunday?” He laughed until he noticed Louis wasn’t joining in, immediately sobering as he stood straighter. “Wait, you’re serious,” he realised, looking horrified. 

“I’m afraid so,” Louis admitted, feeling painfully embarrassed by the whole thing. “I just thought you liked unconventional party days.” 

Logan grinned again, his gray eyes twinkling. “It’s a Super Bowl party. You know, football?” He tugged at his jersey for emphasis. 

“Oh my god,” Louis groaned, covering his face with both hands. “You probably think I’m an idiot,” he said, peeking through his fingers at Logan’s grinning face. 

“Not at all,” Logan insisted, still smiling. “I didn’t even think about you not watching much football. I understand if it’s not your thing.”

Louis had to bite his tongue at that. He watched  _ plenty  _ of football—real football, that is. He had never watched  _ American  _ football, though, and frankly had never planned to. He didn’t want to be rude to Logan, so he just replied, “I’m sure I’ll pick it up.”

“Good,” Logan said. “Well, make yourself at home, and if you have any questions just ask. Oh, and root for the Pats.”

“Root for the Pats,” Louis repeated. “Cheers.” He watched Logan weave his way back over to the group of guys in front of the TV, then turned to the snack table. There was a variety of finger foods: little sausages, crisps and some sort of orange-coloured dip, a large sandwich cut into slices. Louis added some of each item to his plate before trying to find a place to sit. The couch was filled, as were the several folding chairs crammed around it, but there was a spot on the floor with a decent view that Louis claimed as his own. He sat there, munching on crisps and intently trying to understand what was happening on the screen, and was surprised when a pair of legs appeared next to him. 

“Mind if I sit?”

The voice was deep and English, and Louis followed the long legs up to a handsome face smiling down at him. He recognised the man, had seen him with Logan and his friends, but hadn’t known that he was a fellow Brit. “Not at all,” Louis replied, shuffling over to make room for the stranger to sit. “I’m Louis.”

“Thanks. I’m Harry.” Harry settled down next to Louis, their shoulders bumping as he folded his long body into a comfortable position. Once seated, he turned to Louis with an easy smile. “So, Louis, who are you cheering for?”

“Erm, the Pats?” Louis said, repeating what Logan had told him. That must have been the wrong thing to say, because Harry’s face suddenly grew stormy. He noticed for the first time that Harry was dressed in a green jersey, standing out amongst everyone else dressed in blues and reds. “I’m sorry, that’s just what Logan told me,” he added quickly. “Who should I cheer for, then?”

The tension melted off Harry’s face. “The Packers,” Harry replied proudly, puffing out his chest. 

Louis laughed, already charmed by the handsome stranger. And handsome he was, with long brown hair pulled into a bun, eyes a shade lighter than the green of his jersey. And, best of all, he reminded Louis of home. “All right,” Louis agreed. “Which ones are they?” He turned to the TV, looking for jerseys that matched the ones Harry was wearing.

“Oh, they aren’t playing,” Harry said. “Lost in the playoffs,” he sighed bitterly. “I’m wearing this out of solidarity.”

“So we’re cheering for a team that already lost?” Louis giggled. “Is that common in American sports?”

Harry grinned, a dimple carving its way into his cheek. “Mate, you cheer for anyone but the Patriots,” he said.

“Who’s the other team? The one I guess we’ll be supporting for the evening?”

“The Falcons,” Harry said, pointing to the team in red. “They beat the Packers, but I am willing to forgive them if they beat the Patriots as well.”

“Then go Falcons!” Louis called, earning a sour look from a man wearing a jersey similar to Logan’s. Louis shrugged unapologetically, turning his attention back to his new friend. “So, Harry, you gonna explain to me how this game works?”

Harry gestured to the screen. “Well, each team is trying to get the ball into the other team’s end zone,” Harry explained.

“Get it in the end zone, right,” Louis said, snickering. “Go on.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “The team in possession has four chances, called downs, to move the ball ten yards. If they’re successful, they start over with a new set of downs and try for another ten. The goal is to make it the length of the field without losing possession and score a touchdown, but if they can’t get it in, they have the opportunity to kick it through the goal posts for a field goal. It’s worth fewer points, but it’s better than nothing.”

“And all the tackling?” Louis asked, watching the players pile on top of each other on the screen. “That’s to keep the ball from getting any further?”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded enthusiastically. “See, the quarterback had the wide receiver open in the red zone, so he got off a quick pass to him, but the defence closed in before he could score.”

Louis burst out laughing. “I’m sorry, wide receiver?” he asked incredulously. “Was the wide receiver trying to get it in the end zone?” His voice was dripping with innuendo.

“You’re impossible, aren’t you?” Harry chuckled. “Listen, it’s all very manly, despite the arse-slapping and, like, getting horizontal with each other.”

“Right, okay,” Louis said. “So what’s that guy called?” he asked, pointing to a player with the ball tucked snugly under one arm, elbowing his way through a veritable wall of defenders and fighting for every inch.

“That’s the tight end.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

 

*

 

By halftime, Louis thought he was getting the hang of the rules. It seemed like a lot of starting and stopping, and he was amazed that a fifteen-minute quarter could take the better part of an hour. He liked the commercials, though, and watching how invested the other men in the room were in the game. However, he was getting a headache from the constant barrage on his ears, cheering and swearing and the loud music of whatever pop star was playing the halftime show. He said as much, and Harry quickly pulled him out to the balcony for a break from the din.

The air was crisp and cool, really nice for February, and most importantly it was far quieter. Louis slumped into one of the mismatched patio chairs, grateful to get away from the party for a minute. He could still hear the too loud voices through the sliding glass door of the balcony, but the noise was muted enough to allow him to tune it out.

“Thanks,” he said earnestly, watching Harry sink into the chair closest to his. “They get a bit intense about their sports, don’t they?”

“No different than we do back home, I imagine,” Harry laughed.

“Ah, real football,” Louis sighed. “Now there’s a sport to get worked up over.” He rolled his head on his neck, looking over at Harry. “How exactly did you get so into American football anyway?”

“My family moved here when I was a teenager,” Harry explained. “I came here as a freshman, and all the friends I made cared about football, and after a while I picked up a love for it myself.”

Louis nodded as he listened. “That makes sense. Why the Packers, though?”

“They’re the best,” Harry replied, sniffing haughtily and earning a laugh from Louis.

“Of course, my mistake,” Louis teased.

“Game’s back on!” someone shouted from inside, and Louis couldn’t help but groan.

“What’s the matter?” Harry asked. “You don’t want to watch the rest?”

Louis smiled apologetically. “I kind of want to go back to mine. Think I’ve had enough Super Bowl fun for one day.” He chewed at his lip, considering, before he offered, “You can come with me, if you want. Have a proper cuppa?”

Harry looked torn. “That sounds lovely, Louis, but I do actually want to see the game,” he said apologetically. “Another time?”

“What if we watched it at my place?” Louis suggested. “I’ve never checked, but I’m sure my cable came with the channel the game is on, and I might enjoy it more without all the shouting.”

Harry studied him, appearing to mull it over before nodding. “Okay, sure. Let’s go.”

They found Logan in the kitchen, grabbing a fresh beer. Louis thanked him profusely for inviting him, claiming he had a big test the next day that he completely forgot about in all the excitement. “Harry’s going to help me study,” he explained lamely.

Logan looked between the pair of them suspiciously. “Is he now? All right, well, I hope you enjoyed yourself, Louis. You’ll have to come back for a real college party next time.”

“I’d like that,” Louis agreed, thanking him again before making his escape. Harry followed close behind, snickering.

“Help you study?” Harry asked, once they were out in the hallway. “That’s the best excuse you could think of?”

“It’s a perfectly good excuse!” Louis insisted. “Besides, I think he bought it. Don’t you?”

Harry snorted. “I think he thinks we’re sneaking off to shag.”

Louis nearly fell down the stairs. “What?” he yelped, catching himself on the banister.

“I guarantee I’ll get a text in ten minutes asking how it’s going with at least four suggestive emojis,” Harry said, shaking his head. “Logan’s always trying to set me up, bless him.”

“Oh,” Louis replied. He found himself thankful that Harry was behind him and couldn’t see how red his face had become. It simply hadn’t occurred to him that Harry might be into men. Truth be told, his assumption that Harry was as straight as any other guy at the party was the only thing that kept Louis from flirting with the handsome stranger. Because, yeah, Harry was exactly the type of guy Louis usually went for: tall and lean, with a great smile and lips that Louis wanted to test the stretch of. He shook himself, trying to focus, because he was about to be alone with Harry, near horizontal surfaces, and just because Harry liked guys didn’t mean that he liked Louis. “Does Logan date men as well?” he wondered aloud, worried that he had completely misjudged his newest friend.

Behind him, Harry snorted. “No, not at all. He does have excellent taste in men, however,” he replied, and Louis was certain he had to be imagining the suggestive tone laced among Harry’s response. Swallowing hard, Louis unlocked the door to his place and tried to focus on anything other than slamming Harry against the door and having his way with Harry right then and there.

“Nice place,” Harry said appreciatively, heading straight for the couch and flopping down. He wasted no time reaching for the remote and putting the game back on. The score hadn’t changed at all, and the Falcons were still up by a point much to Harry’s satisfaction.

“Make yourself at home,” Louis teased, grabbing a beer for each of them from the fridge and joining Harry on the sofa. He handed Harry the can and curled up at the opposite end, putting as much space between them as possible. He tried to focus on the game, but he just didn’t care about what down it was or how good of a play the Falcons just executed. It was harder to pay attention with only the two of him than it had been at the party, which Louis swore he could still hear from a floor down.

“I don’t bite, you know,” Harry said during the next commercial break. He was frowning, his thick eyebrows bunched together on his forehead. “Is this because I’m gay? I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Louis laughed. “Oh god, Harry. That’s not it at all!” he exclaimed, incredulous that Harry got that impression when it was so far from the truth. “I’m not entirely straight myself,” he admitted.

“Oh.  _ Oh,” _ Harry said, eyebrows shooting up. He chuckled in relief. “Okay, so neither of us are straight or homophobic. Good to know,” he said, smiling.

“Good to know,” Louis repeated, his voice coming out thin, but then the game was back on and he tried very hard to care about the fumble the Falcon’s quarterback just made even though he really wanted to be watching Harry instead. He chanced a look over at Harry, only to find a pair of amused green eyes trained on him. “What?” he asked.

“You aren’t into the game at all, are you?” Harry asked, twisting his lips to keep his smile at bay.

“Not really, no,” Louis admitted. “I thought maybe learning the rules would make me like it, but it still seems so pointless,” Louis groaned.

Harry let out a bark of laughter. “I understand, it took me some time to get into it too.” His grin turned into something wicked as he scooted closer to Louis. “Would it help if I blew you while you watched?”

“Excuse me?” Louis asked in a strangled cry, trying to ignore the fact that his dick was  _ very _ on board with the idea.

“No pressure,” Harry insisted. “I might be reading things entirely wrong, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t find you attractive.” He trailed his long, tapered fingers down Louis’ arm. “What do you say?”

It was straight out of a porno, is what it was, but Harry was hot and football was boring and Louis hadn’t had any action since his last night out back home. “Yeah, okay,” he breathed, hardly able to believe the surprise twist his day had taken.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Harry said with a smirk, and then he was on his knees in front of Louis and making quick work of the fly of Louis’ jeans.

To say Harry was good with his mouth was an understatement. He wasted no time taking Louis into his mouth, giving a long, languid suck as he swallowed Louis down. It was quite evident that it was far from Harry’s first blowjob, and Louis found himself silently thanking every bloke Harry had practiced on before him.

“Watch the game,” Harry ordered quietly, pulling back Louis’ foreskin to lavish attention on his swollen head.

Louis did as he was told, the wet sounds from Harry’s mouth and his own heavy breathing filling his ears as he tried to focus on the game.  _ Snap. Throw. Tackle. _ Louis did his best to stay still, but he could feel his thighs trembling beneath Harry’s hands. It had been too long, and he wanted this too badly, to last much longer. He felt his dick hit the back of Harry’s throat and whimpered at the feeling of it working around.

“Harry,” Louis moaned, cupping Harry’s face in his hand to feel the way Harry’s cheeks hollowed out around him. “Gonna come soon,” he warned.

Harry just nodded, pulling back to bob his head up and down Louis’ spit-slick length. What he couldn’t cover with his mouth he stroked with his hand, and damned if his lips didn’t look just as pretty stretched around Louis’ cock as Louis imagined. He gave up all pretense of watching the game, the beautiful boy between his legs making it impossible to look elsewhere, and when Harry glanced up at him through his lashes with those lovely green eyes, Louis couldn’t hold back any longer. He came with a groan, fingers digging into the couch cushion, and Harry swallowed it all with ease.

Louis slumped bonelessly against the couch, his brain still scrambling to process what just happened. Someone yelled ‘touchdown’ on TV, and Louis swore the ceiling above his head shook from the party upstairs. Harry sat back on his legs, grinning with pink cheeks and wet lips. A few curls had escaped from his bun, framing his face, and Louis wanted quite badly to kiss him.

“Who scored?” Harry asked hoarsely, climbing to his feet to rejoin Louis on the couch.

“Sort of feels like I did,” Louis replied smugly, earning a laugh from Harry. He glanced at Harry’s groin, his jeans tented from his obvious erection. “Do you want me to—”

“Nah,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I want to watch the game. Could go for a cuddle, though,” he offered, holding out an arm. Feeling a bit sheepish, Louis tucked himself away and curled up to Harry’s side, watching the television replay the Falcons’ touchdown. Harry cheered enthusiastically, beaming down at Louis, and Louis had to admit that his excitement was contagious. He paid more attention to the rest of the game after that, cheering when Harry did and listening when Harry ranted about a bad call.

In the end, the Falcons won, and Louis didn’t try to stop himself from kissing Harry square on the mouth in celebration.

 

*

 

It was a week to the day after Harry and Louis met, and the two of them had been texting nonstop since then. Before Harry had left that day, they exchanged numbers with the promise to see each other soon. “To watch some  _ real _ football,” Louis had said, and Harry had rolled his eyes fondly.

Since then Louis had seen Harry a couple of times on campus, and had even sat with Logan and his friends in Dr. Glick’s lecture that week. None of them seemed to mind that Louis had left the party early, though Logan did make sure to ask how Harry was with a cheeky smile. Louis only grinned in reply.

This was going to be their first official date. The plan was for Harry to come over to Louis’, watch Manchester United play Newcastle, and then go out to lunch after. Louis had every intention of actually watching the game, although he did have the DVR set to record just in case any funny business should occur.

A knock at the door announced Harry’s arrival, and Louis gave himself a once-over in the mirror before he answered. He had bought a new shirt just for the occasion, and he hoped it had been the right choice as he took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Hey, Lou—” The words died on Harry’s lips when he caught sight of Louis, his eyes going round as he looked at Louis from top to bottom.

“Hey, Harry,” Louis said, leaning against the door frame. He gestured down at his outfit. “What do you think?” He was wearing a brand-new Packers jersey—and nothing else.

“Erm,” Harry replied, stunned. He dragged his eyes back to Louis’ face. “Wow,” he whispered.

“I take it you approve, then?” Louis asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed quickly. “But I thought we were going to watch the match.” He didn’t sound too disappointed about the change of plans.

“I’m recording it,” Louis replied, pulling Harry inside and shutting the door behind them.

They never made it to lunch, or saw a single moment of the game, instead choosing to order takeaway and trying (unsuccessfully) to watch the recorded game later that evening. In the end, they stayed in bed, Googled the highlights, and Louis finally got to repay Harry for the amazing blowjob. Twice.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed, please feel free to reblog the post on tumblr.


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